


What We Left Behind

by ana_iliad, ashes_and_ashes, gameofdrarrymod



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Confessions, Drarry, Drarryland: A Drarry Game/Fest, Epistolary, Established Relationship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Nightmares, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Spy Draco Malfoy, The Owlery (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 21:44:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19028530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ana_iliad/pseuds/ana_iliad, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes_and_ashes/pseuds/ashes_and_ashes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/gameofdrarrymod/pseuds/gameofdrarrymod
Summary: In the final months of the war, Draco served as a double agent, but much like Snape, he was reviled and distrusted by the other members of the Order. Despite this, Harry and Draco began a relationship of sorts.Now that the war has ended, Draco has broken things off with Harry and broken all ties with the wizarding world---disappearing completely. But Harry finds out that Draco is living abroad as a muggle, and sets out to reconnect by writing him a letter, hoping to convince him to come back, or at least allow Harry to see him again.





	1. Letter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the 2019 Owlery Exchange. The authors were matched and corresponded back and forth anonymously as Harry and Draco for the duration of the exchange until reveals.
> 
> [Jay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ana_iliad) wrote as Harry.  
> [Ash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes_and_ashes) wrote as Draco.
> 
> This was super-fun to write and has been an incredible creation to work on! We want to thank our superb betas for the making this better ❤❤❤
> 
> [Orpheous87](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orpheous87) for being a blessing and being there throughout the journey of the letters and constant support  
> [OTPShipper98](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OTPshipper98) for the beta, AND _more importantly_ , for the squeeing  
> [Primaveracerezos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/primaveracerezos) for being the extra pair of eyes needed  
> Thanks to Nat, who’s not on Tumblr or AO3 but helped me a lot with reading all of my questionable letters!

~~Dear~~

~~Beloved~~

Draco,

Please don't be alarmed. I have no way of knowing how this letter has been delivered to you, so I'm not sure if you may have cast any diagnostic spells on it. But _I want to assure you myself_ that there are no tracking or malicious spells on this letter. It is simply charmed to only be readable by you.

The plain intent of this letter is to convince you to meet me, one last time. I know that there is a reason you chose to disappear. Not to mention, you did a bloody good job of it as well. Though, that’s not surprising considering you were _way too good_ at the whole double-agent thing. It seems as if Draco Malfoy never existed. No assets or properties under your name, no addresses or even mentions of you. Not even from your "closest friends". And that may have very well been your intention. 

But I know you existed. I know that if I were to go to the Slytherin common room and cast that secret spell you taught me; I will find "Property of Draco Lucius Malfoy" indented into that huge, ever-glowing silver candle next to the reading tables.

Your existence is written into my very flesh, from all those kisses you placed on my body. Every kiss of yours on each part of my face, inside my thighs, from my wrists leading to the crook of my neck, is a reminder of your soft and divine lips. 

Every prayer murmured between ourselves after nightmares, every plea uttered by you when I was recovering from curses is proof of a life that was spent in Britain. Of breaths belonging to your living body. Of you having ruled the Slytherin dorms, and my heart. 

I miss you Draco. I miss you so very much. I know we didn't get sexual, but I would very much like to think that we were romantically involved. That we had _something_. Please tell me you thought of it the same way. 

There is so much I want to say that I don’t even know where to start. To be honest, I’m not even sure that you want to hear it. But I’m going to barrage on regardless, like the idiotic Gryffindor you always accused me of being, and maybe came to like.

I dream of meeting you again, Draco. I keep hoping that someday when I'm lost in another one of my fantasies about you and something brings me back to the present moment, I shall see you standing at the doorway, wearing those posh robes of yours and that ever-damnable smile. 

And I _want_ to see you, so badly. I want to be able to hold your hands, feel your thin, almost-starved body against mine. And at this point, I'm not above begging. It has been exactly 439 days since I last saw you and let me tell you that every one of those days has been filled with misery. Except for those moments when I think about the time you were by my side.

This letter is also a promise. A promise that if you choose to meet me, I will not ask anything of you that you wouldn't want to do. A promise that I will leave you alone if you so wish, even after you meet me.

But please, for the love of Merlin and Salazar and Morgana and every being close to your heart, let me be close to you once more. So, I can show you what you mean to me, so YOU can give me _one believable_ reason why you chose to disappear, and not stay with me.

You know I would have stood by your side no matter what. That I would have helped you fight whatever it was that you needed to fight. Make me _understand,_ and I will disappear from your life, like the way you did from mine, by LOOKING ME IN THE EYE. Not by leaving a Merlin-forsaken letter for me after you have already left.

I wasn't supposed to get angry and point fingers at you but FUCK. _It hurts._ What you did hurts and even though my pain might hurt less than yours, it still does.

Please write back. Please. I know you are not okay. I can sense from countries away, your fear when you wake up trembling in the middle of the night. I can feel your cold, damp skin when you have to relive, in your dreams, the stare of every pair of cruel eyes that has ever looked at you.

_And you know I'm going to be waiting._ You know that I will carry hope in my heart even after the point of hopelessness that someday you shall deem my plea _fit_ to reply. Until then it will be your fleeting memories and broken promises keeping me company.

_Forever yours,  
Hare._


	2. Letter Two

Well, hello dear Harry. Decided to write to me?

Good lord. If I knew you were this eloquent with your letters, I may have been persuaded to write to you earlier.

(That is a lie, by the way. Don’t get your hopes up.)

What were you expecting? Sappy letters and declarations of love? Reminiscing about that too-short time we had together? Perhaps you wanted a memory, something to comfort yourself with, something to remind yourself that _you are still human._

I’m not. Not any more.

You’ve always been a fighter, I suppose. I wonder if that’s why you were sorted into Gryffindor instead of Slytherin.

Merlin. It’s been a long time since I’ve written those words, written anything to do with the whole shitstorm of the wizarding world. Did it ever cross your mind, Harry, that perhaps I did not want to be contacted? Did you ever think that maybe I “disappeared” for a damn good reason, that maybe I was hoping to escape everything and hopefully die alone one day?

And yet the scars never go away. You always asked me about them, the year I defected. You did seem very fascinated with them, always kissing them and touching them, brushing them whenever we kissed. You told me it was to remind myself, that whatever torture I went through did not define me.

Do you ever wake up in the middle of the night, Harry? Do you ever have the nightmares, the soul-stopping, terrifying ones, the ones where you would rather die than wake up? The ones where you’re gasping, you’re drowning, when all the pain from all the Crucios came back at once and you can’t do anything about it?

Of course you do. You probably still do. I think that’s what drew me to you, the idea that there was nothing more they could do to us. That we were both shattered, into thousands of glittering pieces, and that maybe I’d be the one to finally piece us back together.

So convince me, Harry. _Convince me_. Convince me that the wizarding world is different, that there is something more out there. Because I ran. I ran from that life, and I had no intention of coming back.

You always made me do stupid things, made me think I could fly even though I was chained down. That was the part I always loved about you, the thought that you had hope in this screwed up world.

Hope. I can already feel you thinking, of all the ways you could convince me to return. You won’t give up, will you? You never do.

So fine. I’ll tell you a story. You always used to tell me that I was so secretive. _Up there on your Malfoy Throne_ , you once said. _What do you have to hide from me?_

Maybe you’ll finally understand why your world only holds pain. For me at least. It’s interesting - you were saved by magic and I was damned by it.

You’re probably the only one who’ll understand.

He tortured me in the Manor. Tortured me and tortured me, over and over again, cut after tear after snap. I never knew why - perhaps he used me as a warning, a reminder to not fail him.

Of course, part of torture is the unpredictability. He used Crucio on me for awhile, used to use it for hours on end. But that’s the simplicity of Crucio - it’s just pain. You get used to it after some time, learn to clench your teeth and bite your lip because you will not _fucking scream._ So then he used other people, made my mother and my father both torture me, over and over again. I still hear my mother’s sobs, as I writhed on the floor. My father never showed any emotion - I hear he’s in Azkaban now.

Voldemort’s specialty was always the mind though. I’m not sure what curse he used, whatever spell he cast upon me, but it’s never gone away. Even now it sometimes hits me, the twisting of my thoughts. I can’t tell what’s real anymore, what’s _him_ and what’s me.

And you. You’re everywhere. In my nightmares, bleeding on the floor. In my memories, healing my wounds or against my lips or laughing as you raise your wand, the scarlet jets hitting my body.

Was it love, those brief, beautiful moments we had?

Convince me.

 _Draco_.


	3. Letter Three

Draco, well thank fuck, you did end up replying. Even though your reply is all coated in barbs and wires. Just like you. _How typical._ I had almost made up my mind to hunt you down. 

You’ll need to take a seat for this one. I haven’t written and rewritten so many times even for our essays in school. Trust you to make me do unexpected things. 

Even I was shocked at the alleged eloquence of my last letter. But the thing is, Draco, when you think you only have one chance of gaining back your lost world, you put everything into it, surprising everyone, even yourself. 

Really? Too-short time? Don’t try to speak lowly of what we had. I will not believe it. I was awake that night when you came back after the holidays. I heard what you said. _Best part of my life, Harry. Changing sides, no matter the cost, has been my best decision. We found each other, sweetheart._

Plus, I am familiar with all your ruses. Stop lying. You would have written to me no matter how shitty my letter may have been. As is evident from the dried tears that you missed cleaning up. 

Don’t berate yourself. _Of course, I will, Potter. Don’t flatter yourself, it was a moment of weakness._ Well, no. You aren’t weak, nor was that moment. When will you rid yourself of all the hogwash that your father taught you? Isn’t that one of the reasons you left? You wanted to unlearn everything ingrained in you. Rediscover what it meant to be a normal person. With that brilliant brain of yours, you should have figured out by now that vulnerability is not a weakness. Wouldn’t you have preferred Lucius showing some emotion while he cast an Unforgivable on his own son, the priceless Malfoy heir?

How can I ever forget the _Crucios,_ Draco? It made me want to kill Voldemort on the spot every time. And if it wasn’t for you or Ron or Hermione, I would have stormed off in a rage so many damn times. And for every curse you took, I punished myself. 

_It was so easy._ Stand in front of the mirror and let the darkness guide my wand. But taking the pain was much easier; it made me forget about yours. And it continues to be easy. Because now, it makes me forget about you. Sometimes. 

And if you are angry because of how put together I seem from our correspondence, then I can only point out that you are mistaken. It is no wonder that you made your reply sound so bitter. But you are forgetting, Draco, that I can see past your defences. I can call out your bullshit. I didn’t know what I expected from your letter, but it certainly wasn’t this. It shouldn’t surprise me, considering you’ve used masks your whole life to hide the truth. About yourself, about your feelings, and most of all about what you truly want. 

I can already predict your inner monologue, _Never reveal your strengths, Potter. Not even to your close ones. You’ve made a mistake now. My tactics shall change._

It is not a mistake, Draco. I don’t need to remind you that I can play games as well. I choose not to. Because I’m tired of the mindless games and chases. Aren’t you, my dragon? 

But I will ask again, _what do you have to hide from me?_ We shared an intimacy that went beyond what’s normal. All our truths and secrets laid naked and bare in front of each other. For the other to see, to understand, and to accept. 

At the risk of sounding sappy again, you deserve the throne. It doesn’t have to be Malfoyan though, does it? Although now I understand your need for secrecy. It is part of the reason you survived. But why from me? Why now? After we won; albeit without most of our sanity. But I wonder, does it matter? Because if I can have you again, my sanity, or whatever is left of it, is a price I would be willing to pay. 

Now, don’t be afraid, Draco. Not for me. And especially not of me. This is a fault of your own making. You simultaneously bring out the best and worst in me. And have always been the only one to do so. 

I cannot convince you of anything once you've made up your mind. I had forgotten that, and your letter so kindly reminded me by challenging me to convince you. So, I won't try to. But I can lay out my heart for you, right here, in this letter. 

It was my unexpected Slytheriness that drew you to me. You loved that I could see right through you, even under all those masks. Because you wanted someone to be able to see past all the lies you created to hide your desires. You wanted all the sappiness and the declarations of forever. You dreamt of a constant, of all the forbidden touches and affection. Something you were told you shouldn't have. 

_You wished for love, Draco._

And yes, what we had was love. Don't you dare say it wasn't, or that it was unrequited. Because if it wasn't love from your side as well, then you won't remember exactly what I need to recover from those crueller-than-life nightmares. You know what I’m talking about, and you know that since my recovery process involves you, I don’t actually recover from the dreams. I do something else that ends up making it worse. Is that what you want to hear? Because I don’t know how to answer that. 

But I do know I am human. Don’t need to write you a letter to know that — but maybe you need to look in the mirror. The eyes that will stare back will be human, regardless of the haunted appearance. You are human, Draco. Because if you weren’t, those bloodcurdling dreams wouldn’t affect you. You wouldn’t be trying to figure out all these things. The fact that you so desperately want me to present a compelling case to you about all things life, and magic, and love is proof enough. 

_I am a fighter_ because I saw a stubborn, brave, blond git fighting with all his might to set things right. I saw you give up everything in the blasted war and vowed to make sure that your sacrifices weren’t in vain. The rest is history. 

You ask about scars as if you did not spend every waking moment mapping mine out. Asking me to regale the stories, over and over, in the hopes of making me immune to the pain. We were each other’s lifeline, Draco. Hope, even. Did you turn your back on that too? When you turned your back on me?

_Because you wish to stay hidden,_ I will give up on my search for you. As for hope, even though it is a vile thing, even though more often than not it is deception, I will hold on to it. After all, it got me through two villains in my life - Vernon and Voldemort. It also gave me some wonderful people - the Weasleys, Luna, Neville. You. 

You have the right to run. _You can run_ \- you have a new world to turn to. But I was damned in the muggle world, and I was damned by the Wizarding world as well. Where do I go?

Magic did save me later on. But it was love that saved me first. My mother’s, our friends’, your mother’s, yours. You say you dream of me and scarlet jets. Well, I dream of white. Your skin, your hair, death, the light. Is this some sort of indication?

When you ask me about nightmares, do you mean the kind of place that traps you in the worst way possible? That moves further than the physical, a place where you feel that every atom in your body is screaming at you to run, but all you can do is sink? I think you will understand when I say that you’re captured by the twisted confines of your own mind. It is a never-ending maze of memories, the most terrifying ones you possess. You think you’ve found an exit only to be led back right into a pit you think you can never crawl out of. An ambush of memories and magic and manipulation and insanity. Yes, I do have them. Yes, I did hope for you to rebuild my fragmented self. I don’t know if I still do, or if I even should. 

_Draco, love,_ I cannot guarantee you complete freedom from this darkness. Hell, there will probably be more if I come back into your life, what with my lunatic brain in the mix. But I can promise you that you will have someone by your side. You can be saved, just as much as I can. You can understand to differentiate. You even know how, deep down, irrespective of whether you think you deserve to or not. The question, my beloved dragon, is do you want to learn to tell the difference?

_Yours forever,  
Hare._

_P.S - you don’t want to be left alone, Draco. It is no coincidence that the day Hermione was in town (as published in the Corriere della Sera) for her meeting with the Ministry, you happened to be spotted nearby. You always were excellent at covering your tracks to have let this be a coincidence._

_P.P.S - Tell me your knees don't buckle when you remember what we shared._


	4. Letter Four

By God Harry, I seem to have pissed you off more than I anticipated.

Although, I suppose that was always one of my strengths, pissing you off past your limits. We know each other too well it seems. I suppose we always have.

Do you ever wonder, sometimes, what life would have been like if we were reversed? If you were the one raised in a house of Dark Magic, if I was the Chosen One? Do you ever wonder what would have happened?

I guess we’ll never know. Though, I’m not sure that we would have won if I had been the Boy Who Lived. I don’t think I would have been brave enough.

And there I go again. Off topic as always. You always used to be exasperated by that, my hundreds and thousands of side conversations, the way I moved from thought to thought without linking any of them together. What can I say? I learned to think fast, quick on my feet. The skill certainly served me well when the Death Eaters interrogated me.

How many Crucios did they use on me? How many similar lines are carved into your skin now? I didn’t know that you did that to yourself, Harry. I would have never told you had I known. Although, I’m not sure that it would have helped me, not telling anyone. Solitude can make you go mad - I learnt that the hard way. And I’m not very fond of going mad.

It’s hard, Harry. So damn hard. It’s been ingrained in me, the masks and the walls and the barriers. It’s what kept me alive in that house, the distance.

God, Harry. It was…bad. Being 15 and a spy in your own house, having to watch and smirk and _laugh_ as they tortured them. So many people, bleeding out on the marble floor, so many people I _knew_.

I know you’ve killed before, haven’t you? We both have. So you know what I’m talking about, when you end a life. The way their eyes go blank and their body stiffens and they collapse on the floor. I saw many people being killed, was forced to kill some myself. Some are defiant, some heartbroken, some brave and some so hurt they can’t even move. But it’s all the same in the end - another body on the floor.

War never gives. It takes and takes and takes - it took everything from us.

And now I can’t even go back. I was a spy, Harry, one of the best. They all think I’m a murderer, one of those pure blooded fanatics, and nothing can be said about it because my cover even now can’t be blown. I remember what Shacklebolt told me, right after the fighting ended. _Thank you for your service. However, you do realize that you cannot be publicly recognized, yes? If there ever is another war, you are perfectly placed to be a crucial information source to us again._

And I know what you’ll say, Harry. God, I know you so well. I know you’ll help me, be willing to spend the rest of your life with me and I can’t have that. Because you are a hero, Harry. You are the Chosen One. You deserve so much better than me. You deserve the world.

So no. No, I won’t deny what we had. How could I, when it saved me so many times? How could I, when it was the only thing getting me through the pain? I used to repeat it in my head, when they were torturing me, over and over again. _Stay alive. Breathe. You have to see Harry again._

It was always you. Always, since we were young.

Do I ever regret it, switching sides? Sometimes, when the moonlight hits my skin and the scars show up, or when I collapse on the round because my back is shaking, or when I see the mark on my arm and I want to throw up. I tried to get rid of the mark, you see, tried cutting and burning it. I even tried slicing it off, one layer of skin at a time.

No luck. The Mark stayed.

But there are other times, when I’m half asleep and I dream about you, or when I go to make myself some tea and I set two mugs on the table without thinking. Times when I walk into the store and I see another boy with black hair and green eyes and my heart stops because _maybe it’s you_. Maybe -

It’s surprising, isn’t it? That we were able to fall in love, despite being on opposite sides. Surprising and wonderful and beautiful.

So I know I’m being foolish. I know that there is nothing left for me in your world, everything burned to ashes and dust.

I remember, the day you convinced me to switch. The day you looked inside me, my shredded soul, and it was as if you knew. Knew everything I was going through, the way I was killing myself inside. I remember the rain, pouring down, soaking us both, your hand on mine as you whispered. _It doesn’t have to be like this. Come with me, Draco._

So I did. I dropped everything, my family, my title, my life, all for you, Harry. I’d do it again in an instant.

I’d follow you anywhere, Harry. Through blood and rain and fire, I’d follow you.

So give up the search. Maybe it would be better for me anyway. Maybe I’m foolish, an idiot, going back to a world that has only caused me pain. Maybe I’m too trusting, so damn naive, maybe I will regret this for the rest of my life.

But I do not think I am ready to give you up quite yet.

Draco

_P.S. Why, you must have been more desperate than I thought if you had been scouring the newspapers for word of me. I must say, I’m flattered. And slightly scared._


	5. Letter Five

Draco, I know that by now you will have been contacted by the Ministry, relieving you of your spy duties, and invited to publicly pronounce you as an ally of the Light. Don’t be furious. _Please hear me out._

I shattered all the glass in the house when I read that the Ministry put you up to this. Hiding away, alone. So far away from the only people who stood by you. All for a war that may or may not happen.

And war or no, you will not be used as another piece to be sacrificed. Bred to fight and die. I’ve been that enough times for both of us. You may argue that the choice to live in solitude, to undertake this job for a lifetime, is yours to make. But that is exactly is why I made it. Because you would undertake this to atone for your actions when you were still as young as fourteen. All your beliefs, your decisions, your hatred - it was all you knew. It was what you had been taught. How can I let you do that to yourself, while fully knowing that you want to be seen for who you are and not for who you should be?

That’s why, I went to Kingsley, and demanded he release you of the sanctions and orders given to you. The Ministry has no right letting the Wizarding world think of you as evil for their benefit.

I had to do this. Not for you, but for me. How could I live, letting you suffer and pay for things that were out of your control? Even after all that you have done. Knowing your affinity for repenting more than is needed, I made a choice.

_Can’t you see, Draco?_ You are finally free. Free to live. To move around. Go to all those places you’ve always wanted to go to. Without the shackles of being a Malfoy, without the shadows that you were constantly accompanied by. 

If this changes your mind to be with me, so be it. I can live knowing you have a second chance, Draco, but not if you are confined and treated like a commodity to be used.

As for fighting in another war, by Merlin, if there is another one (as if two weren’t enough) you shall fight from the frontlines. With honour, with power, _with recognition._ Hopefully, we will battle side-by-side even then.

And frankly, no matter if we had won, if our lives were switched I’m sure we would have still found each other. _You are brave,_ Draco. You certainly would have done things effectively, if not better. But through all that, I would have still fallen for you.

I reach out for you sometimes when I wake up. I grasp the air, searching for the slender hand that perfectly fits mine. And I will for a long time. Maybe forever. And I’m thankful that you did meet me (your mantras worked) after every single one of your missions. I got to hold and touch you one more time, every time. I cherish the Mark you’re so desperately trying to erase. It is another proof of your bravery and sacrifices. 

But I know the burden of a mark you didn’t choose. We can find a way. Until then, don’t you do anything else to yourself! I’m not losing you to the stupid mark after defeating the person who gave it to you.

Your habit of prattling on about so many different things at the same time did drive me insane. You cannot blame me though. When you’ve lived year-to-year with the intent of finishing a mission, and had to be alert for signs of danger from the age of three, everything that is not related to the next task is a distraction. I am sorry for all those times I’ve not been nice when you only did what you learnt to do for survival.

But now I would give up quite a few things to see the way your eyes light up when you speak about your favourite things, the way your hands fly all over the place when you’re excited. And I hope that the stunt I pulled with the Ministry does not stand in the way of this.

I understand you now, Draco. Better than I was able to before. I’m sorry it took me this long. But never again.

I can’t imagine going through what you did. Having your home violated, and in the worst way possible. I get it. And I will not question you for those things again. Hell, I’m not even angry about you leaving. You left three days after the battle, with only a note for me left behind. You did it because you knew I would be furious at what the Ministry had in store for you. Didn’t you?

And I am desperate, Draco. I’ve been like that for a long time. I went to great lengths to find you over the last fifteen months, and it is only by chance last month that I found evidence that you were even alive. And if takes flattery to get you here, I am willing to indulge you every day for the rest of our lives. But as I said, I will understand if your freedom takes precedence.

I like to think we are quite the same, save for the different ways in which we grew up. You are right, Draco, about all the things you said. But even more so when you say we know each other too well. We do. That day in the rain, I did not see Draco Malfoy. I saw anguish and fear. Your eyes gave you away. They showed me everything you had been trying to hide behind the indifference.

That day, I knew that you had killed. But I also knew that you would rather kill yourself than be forced to kill someone else again. Fear for your mother’s life stopped you from running away. And I killed every time you were close to being discovered. Which was twice, and I felt vile and sick when the eyes went from being alive with emotions to going the pale shade of dead. Stone cold.

Sometimes I think I see a demon when I look in the mirror. And I want to keep you away from this. Only you could see this and not be afraid of me. But now, it scares even you. And you deserve better. The question isn’t if you are the best for me. You are, no doubt about it. Everything I ever needed and more than I could possibly want. But maybe you deserve more than a reluctant War Hero (see: boy raised like a lamb to be slaughtered) turned lunatic.

Yes, that’s what they are calling me now. After I caused a storm for you. But we both know, that is the least of my concerns. It’s welcome, even. I can finally be free of all the things expected of me.

I will not ever give you a reason to regret anything. You trusted me once, please trust me once more. For all the pain the Wizarding world has put you through, I don’t expect you to come back. I’m touched that you would still do for me. But I don’t want you to. I don’t know if you still find my arms the safest place (you talk in your sleep), but you are still my home. So _baby, please let me come home._

_Your Harry._

_P.S - knowing how much I mattered to you (and still do) has breathed new life into me, Draco._


	6. Letter Six

You know me too well, Harry. I suppose that’s what happens, after 3 years of being madly in love. (Feel free to read that in a sarcastic tone, perhaps with a smirk.)

What can I say? It was easier, to run. To hide, to flee, to never look back. Much easier than facing all of the shit that the war left behind.

Anyway, Harry. Allow me to paint you an image. You always told me that I have a gift with words.

I’m walking down the street. It’s a typical, hot day, the leaves rustling in the tree behind me. I’ve got a carton of milk and a loaf of bread in my hand, humming some random song that got stuck in my head (I think it was _All Star,_ curse you for introducing that song to me). I head to my apartment. I open the door, the key scraping in the lock. I am greeted by not one, not two, but 10 different wizards meandering about in my living room.

I think it’s safe to say that I wet my goddamn pants. Metaphorically, of course.

In any case, they told me that I was now free. That I could go home, collect my inheritance, that I would receive a prize of some sort (Order of Merlin, I think, I can’t remember). And that was that. Two minutes, and I was welcomed back into the Wizarding World with all the apologies of the Ministry.

Freedom. The word is strange. I don’t think I’ve ever been free, not really. There was always my Father, or Voldemort, always something that stopped me from -

It was easier, I think, to leave without telling you goodbye. Less painful, perhaps, because I knew you would try to stop me. I knew you would burn down the world in a heartbeat, face Voldemort again. It’s always been your personality, your infuriating, beautiful personality, to give up everything for someone you love.

And if you feel the same way that I did, that I _do_ , you’ll know that it is love. Though, you never doubted that. It was always me.

So I won’t waste my breath trying to convince you otherwise. You know that it won’t be easy, loving me. I’m bitter and broken and far too shattered and I don’t know if I would be able to pretend otherwise. War changes people - you know that as well as I. I don’t know if we’ll ever be the same, if we could ever go back to how we used to be before.

There was a quote I read, somewhere, about how the very same flames that harden stone melt metal. How some people rise from trauma and others crumble from it, how sacrifice only means anything if you have something to lose.

It was easier being alone. Voldemort was persuasive - I would have given up the Order in a heartbeat, killed Dumbledore and damned the entire Wizarding World if it meant keeping you safe.

 _For the Greater Good_. It was a quote by the late Dark Wizard Grindelwald, something that resonated with me throughout everything. Would I have sacrificed everything, sacrificed _you_ for the _Greater Good_?

Because you know me, Harry. I would burn down the world just because you weren’t there with me. So I’m not sure if that was a smart choice, pardoning me, letting me back into your world.

But it was beautiful all the same. Magical, I suppose (ironic isn’t it? That the one who was born into magic would be the one to lose it). We were something, something wonderful, life forged in a war of death. Because it’s much easier to find someone you would die for than to find someone you would kill for.

It is what it is. We were young and naive and hopeless, forced into a war that should not have been ours and we lived. Scarred, yes, covered in bloody gashes and painful memories but we got out. We survived.

That’s what I whisper to myself, in the dead of the night. _We survived. We survived._

I dreamt about you, last night. The bed always seemed too large without you in it - I turn around, reaching out for someone and awoke holding onto air.

In the dream, we’re together. We’re always together. The Dark Mark is on my forearm, stark in the pale light. You trace your thumb over it, and it sends shivers down my spine.

I turn to you. “ _Do you think it’s possible to change? To become a better person_?”

You smile down at me. “ _Always_.”

I’m staring at my bags right now - there are 7 of them. The apartment is empty, of furniture and of clothing. My fingers are curled around a pen - I am absentmindedly flicking it, like I’m casting a spell. You still have my wand by the way - I want it back.

Don’t bother sending me any more letters, Harry. Tell me yourself. I’ll see you at the Spot, where we always used to meet.

I’ll be waiting.

Yours,

Dragon

PS. _We survived._

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Bred to Die, Fought to Live](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19141981) by [Slytherclaw_Spice_and_Everything_Nice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slytherclaw_Spice_and_Everything_Nice/pseuds/Slytherclaw_Spice_and_Everything_Nice), [the_fifth_marauder101](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_fifth_marauder101/pseuds/the_fifth_marauder101)




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